


Patience Is a Virtue

by SilenceIsGolden15



Series: Voltron Oneshots [51]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Delinquent Keith (Voltron), Escape, Gen, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Knives, My boy is so good at stealing cars im proud of him, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Scared Keith (Voltron), Technically there's Adashi but barely any, Threats, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 20:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: Iverson wasn't the only one who didn't want Shiro to go to Kerberos. The other people just had a lot more money, a lot more power, and much fewer morals.





	Patience Is a Virtue

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came from a prompt I reblogged on tumblr. To see what future fics may have in offer, check out my 'to use' tag.

It rarely ever got truly cold in the desert. It was nearing chilly that night, but only enough to make them keep their Garrison blazers on when they went out. There were four of them that Friday night-- Adam and Shiro, walking hand in hand, and Matt and Keith tagging along behind them, Matt occasionally making a face at their backs and making Keith chuckle. 

It was his first time off campus since joining the Garrison six months ago. A ridiculously long time for some people, maybe, but Keith hadn’t felt the need to go anywhere. The food at the Garrison wasn’t exceptional, nor were the entertainment options, but he wasn’t picky, so why bother?

But tonight Shiro had managed to convince him to go out and celebrate his recent exam scores. So here they were: walking from the pizza place (where Keith had stuffed himself ridiculously full of pizza and soda) to the movie theatre. He didn’t know what they were going to be seeing, but honestly he didn’t care. Just the act of being out with people he could actually call his friends was enough. 

Matt traipsed forward a few steps to catch up with Adam and Shiro, probably to make some snarky comment or another. At the same moment Keith felt his Garrison-issue phone buzz in his pocket. He paused to dig it out, the others continuing onwards, and had just opened the email notification on the screen when he registered the sound of a car driving by on the street. 

At first he disregarded it as just another passing vehicle and focused on speed-reading the email so he could catch up with the others. The engine got louder, as though it had parked on the curb beside him, and he was in the midst of stepping aside to make room for the occupants when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

Accompanied by the pinprick of cold metal under his chin. 

Instinctively he stilled. His eyes darted up to see the others about twenty feet away, still walking. They hadn’t noticed that he’d fallen behind. But before he could even think of calling out to them, the hand tightened and hot breath fanned over his cheek as his captor bent down to whisper in his ear.

“I wouldn’t say anything, cadet,” he hissed in a poisonous, and slightly delighted, tone. “I’ve got a buddy in the car, and he’s armed with more than just a knife. Nod if you understand.”

Gingerly, wary of the knife pressed to his throat, Keith nodded. The adrenaline was leaking into his system, making him clutch his phone in a white knuckled grip to prevent his hands from shaking, and his muscles twitched with the instinct that had kept him alive for so long. 

When you’re threatened,  _ run.  _

The plan popped into his head in mere seconds. Stomp on his foot, knock away the knife, twist out of his hold, and sprint. But when he flicked his gaze to the car on the curb, just to be sure, he saw the silhouette of another man; a man with a gun in his hand, and he wasn’t pointing it at Keith. He was pointing it to the windshield, where Shiro and the others were walking. 

If he ran, they’d hurt Shiro.

Keith let out a long, slow exhale and forced his shoulders to untense. The man gave a slimy laugh. 

“That’s right, kid. No funny shit.” His hand moved from Keith’s shoulder to pry the phone away from him, dropping it carelessly to the concrete. All while Keith watched his friends walk further and further away, ignorant of the danger they were in. “Come on, now. In the car.”

He took the knife away but gave Keith a hard shove towards the vehicle. And Keith, buzzing with apprehension and genuine frosty fear, did as he was bade. 

* * *

The group paused at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. Matt had just made some wry remark or another, and Adam was laughing while Shiro merely shook his head in fond exasperation, as this time the comment had been aimed at him. As Matt’s jokes often were. 

Almost subconsciously he glanced over his shoulder, just to make sure Keith was still following, only to do an immediate double take. 

“Uh, guys?” he said, interrupting Matt’s next punchline. “Where’s Keith?”

Matt turned to face where Shiro was, his brow furrowing. At first he didn’t say anything, giving Adam time to slip his hand into Shiro’s and lean his chin on his shoulder.

“Wasn’t he right behind us?” asked Adam. 

“He was,” said Matt, backtracking a few steps. Pulling Adam along behind him, Shiro followed. 

Back the way they had come was nothing but the shadowed pavement of the sidewalk, a few puddles of light splayed from the street lights. But there was no sign of Keith, or his orange blazer, which should have made him stand out like a red thumb. There weren’t even any alleyways between the darkened storefronts for him to have slipped into, and a cursory look across the street revealed nothing.

“Keith?” he called, the group moving as one as they continued to backtrack. Matt and Adam called a few times as well, but there was no answer. 

Almost a block back from the crosswalk, Shiro spotted something on the ground right before he stepped on it. When he picked it up he recognized it as Keith’s phone, and it was ringing. The number on it was unknown, but with his anxiety steadily rising, Shiro threw common sense to the wind and answered it. 

“Shirogane?” The low, gravelly voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar, and definitely not Keith.

“Who is this?” he asked. Matt and Adam turned to him with confused expressions.

“Oh, nobody. Let’s call it a representative of an interested party.”

Well, that didn’t sound good. “A party interested in what?”

“Kerberos.”

Shiro sucked in a quick breath. Matt’s eyes widened, and Adam gestured for him to put it on speaker. Shiro obeyed, just as the man began to speak again. 

“So here’s the deal. There are some very powerful people out there who donated to the Kerberos mission. And some of those people like to make money back on their investments. And some of them don’t like the idea of letting a sick pilot take all the responsibility for that. You get me so far?”

Shiro’s fist clenched at his side. Adam managed to slide his hand into it, but just barely. Shiro was beginning to tremble. Matt had gone pale. 

“So here’s how this is gonna go down. You’re gonna resign from your position as pilot within the next twelve hours. You do that and nobody gets hurt. You don’t, and life is going to be very difficult for your little pet project cadet.”

“How can I trust you?” Shiro snarled, squeezing Adam’s hand hard. “How do I know you aren’t just bluffing?”

The man scoffed. “Ah, ok, I see how it is. You want proof.” There was some rustling on the other end of the line, then he said, “Say hello, brat.”

“Fuck you!” The bottom of Shiro’s stomach dropped out at the sound of Keith’s voice. Angry and scared. Terrified. 

There was a harsh smacking sound, loud enough to make Shiro jump, and Keith let out a short exclamation. Shiro’s vision went red and Adam winced at the pressure of his squeezing hand. 

He’d just hit Keith. 

“I think we all understand each other now, don’t we?” said the man, far too smugly for someone who had just hit a child. “We look forward to seeing the press release in the morning.”

The line went dead. Shiro and Adam were frozen for a moment longer, both still processing, but Matt had already taken action. He had his own phone out of his pocket and the police dialed before Shiro even looked up from the phone screen. 

“It’s gonna be ok, Takashi,” Adam murmured under Matt’s panicked jabbering. “Everything’s gonna be ok.”

Shiro couldn’t find the breath to answer. 

* * *

Keith supposed he should feel grateful. Sure he was thirsty. Sure his arms ached from being duct taped behind him for several hours. Sure the strip of tape over his mouth made it a little hard to breathe. Sure the bruise on his cheekbone throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

But all things considered, it could have been a lot worse.

The man with the knife had bound him in the car while the one with the gun drove. Once he was properly trussed up he’d been forced to the floor under the man’s feet to keep out of sight. Then they drove for a long, long time, and without being able to see out Keith couldn’t be sure where they were or where they were going. Sometimes it felt like they were driving in circles. 

Finally they stopped, and Keith was pulled up and set on his clumsy feet. They were outside what looked to be a cheap house in a suburb, but other than that Keith had no idea where they were. The knife point against the small of his back made him think twice about trying to escape then. Then he was marched inside, deposited unceremoniously onto the floor in an empty bedroom, and left alone.

That was a while ago. He wasn’t sure how long. He’d been waiting for his opportunity.

_ Patience yields focus,  _ he reminded himself over and over.  _ Patience yields focus.  _

So Keith laid there on the dirty carpet, waited, and listened. The walls were thin-- he could hear the men talking and a TV blaring in the other room. As the time passed he began to feel the warning signs of fatigue, but Keith shook them off as best he could and tried to focus. Eventually the TV turned off, and the men’s voices disappeared into silence. 

Keith waited as long as he could make himself. Then, holding his breath, he carefully slid his knife out of its sheath. It was a bit difficult to flip it around in the right direction, but after a few minutes of struggling succeeded in sliding the blade under the tape. With an awkward motion of his wrist, he began to saw through the tape.

It took flippin’ forever. At once point the knife slipped from his sweaty fingers and cut the flesh just above the tape, making him give an involuntary wince into his gag. He froze for a few moments after that, just in case the men were light sleepers, but everything remained quiet. 

Finally, with a last harsh wrench, his hands were free. He peeled the tape away from his mouth, rolled his shoulders, re-sheathed his blade-- then he was ready to check the bedroom door. 

Lo and behold, it wasn’t locked. As Keith crept out into the hallway, he allowed himself a bitter smirk. They’d underestimated him, it would seem. 

The house wasn’t large. The bedroom he was in seemed to be the only one, because the hall let into a kitchen separated from the living room by only a half wall. He could see his kidnappers snoozing away on the couches, the TV screen gone to static, completely unconcerned about their captive. 

For a moment a dark impulse took him-- he had a knife, they were asleep, it would be so easy-- but then he thought of Shiro. The disappointed face he would make. So instead he set to finding the car keys-- and there they were, right on the kitchen table.

The front door was locked, but not from the outside. It was easy for him to quietly turn the lock and ease the door open so that it wouldn’t squeak. He snuck out to the car, trying to keep as silent as he could as he crossed the yard. He climbed into the driver's seat, closed the car door as quietly as possible.

He paused and took a deep breath. 

Then he started the engine, threw it into reverse, and got the hell out of dodge. 

* * *

Shiro’s pacing was driving Adam to distraction, but he couldn’t help it. It had been four hours already and Keith was still missing. He’d raced back to the Garrison as soon as he could, ready to go to Iverson that minute and tell him to take him off the mission, but Sam Holt had intercepted him on the way and convinced him to be patient. Wait for the police to try to sort things out before anything drastic had to be done.

And so he’d been dragged back to his apartment by his boyfriend and the Holts, where they all waited for news.

His stomach was in a million knots. There weren’t words to describe the type of fear that filled him then; the others, knowing it was futile, didn’t try to soothe it. 

_ Patience yields focus, patience yields focus,  _ he chanted in his mind as he paced to and fro. But the phrase was beginning to sound hollow. 

It was 12:14 a.m. when Shiro, facing the door as he paced, caught the doorknob turning. He froze dead in his tracks, heartbeat sounding in his ears, as a million worst case scenarios chased each other across his brain. When the door finally opened they all fell away, leaving only one overwhelming thing. Relief.

The person in the doorway was Keith. 

Later Shiro wouldn’t remember moving. But he must have, because one minute he was on the other side of the room, staring at the open door, and the next he was on his knees before it, clutching Keith’s thin frame to his chest. 

Keith clung to him just as desperately. Around them voices buzzed, Matt and Sam and Adam giving their own reactions, but to Shiro it was all incomprehensibly garbled. All that mattered was that Keith was here, he was safe, he wasn’t hurt-- wait. Was he hurt?

Shiro pulled back. At first Keith tried to resist, until Shiro put one hand on his shoulder to steady him and brushed his hair back with the other. 

There were tears in his eyes and a lurid bruise painting his right cheek, but other than that his face looked unharmed. But when Keith lifted a hand to grasp his wrist, Shiro noticed the dark stain on his sleeve.

“You’re hurt,” he said breathily. Keith tried to blink back the tears and shook his head.

“Only a little,” he murmured. The sound of his voice made the relief well up all over again, and Shiro couldn’t resist pulling him in for another hug. 

“Jeez, kid,” said Matt’s voice from above them. They were jostled a bit as Matt patted Keith on the shoulder. “You alright?” His tone was casual, but there was a tightness to it that betrayed his own concern.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” Keith answered, muffled by Shiro’s grip. Next someone tapped Shiro’s arm, making him look up. 

Above them stood Adam, the familiar, well used white box in his hands. 

“Come on, Takashi,” he said with a soft, relieved smile. “Let’s get him fixed up.” 

“Right, yeah.” His voice sounded thick when he replied. Getting shakily to his feet, Shiro wrapped an arm around Keith and pulled him over to the couch. Adam knelt on the floor in front of it and set the first aid kit next to his knee, ready to do what he’d done for Shiro so many times, but when he reached for Keith’s hand the boy shied away. Adam didn’t miss a beat.

“Why don’t you do it, Takashi. I’ll go help Matt and Sam.”

Help Matt and Sam with what wasn’t clear, but Shiro wasn’t about to complain. He took Adam’s spot and rifled through the box, hoping they still had some gauze pads in there.

“Can you roll up your sleeve for me, bud?” he asked. His voice still trembled a bit, but Keith didn’t bring it up. He just did as he was told with an affirmative hum, and when Shiro turned back to him he could see the wound responsible for all the bleeding. It wasn’t too bad, all things considered, but still Shiro was careful as he cleaned it, put a pad over it, and gently wound the medical tape around it until it was secure. 

It was when he went back to the first aid kit for some bruise cream that he noticed how Keith’s leg had begun to shake. When he looked back up, he realized all of him was shaking, and Keith had his face tipped to the floor to conceal the reemergence of tears.

“It’s alright now,” Shiro whispered, slowly reaching up to blot the cream over the welt on Keith’s cheekbone. The other three were in the kitchen, calling the police it seemed from their tones, and no one heard him but Keith. 

Keith took a shuddering breath, but before he could answer the other voices grew louder, coming back from the kitchen. 

“They’re going to send some investigators over in the morning,” Sam told them. Shiro couldn’t tell if the time gap was due to something Sam had said or if it was normal protocol after a kidnapping, but either way he was grateful for it. Keith would need time to calm down before talking to anyone about it. 

“I’ll be back then,” chimed in Matt, “Just in case.”

Keith exhaled. It was a little steadier now, but not by much. “Guess I should go back to the dorms then, huh?” 

“No.” Shiro resisted the urge to tighten his grip on Keith’s shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay right here with me until I hear of an arrest.”

Keith just looked at him. It was a look he’d seen before-- wide-eyed curiosity, shock, surprise; he wasn’t used to people caring. That look always made Shiro choke up. This time was certainly no different. 

“I’ll go make up the guest bed,” said Adam, and didn’t wait for anyone’s response before he left the living room. Shiro finished up with the cream and screwed the lid back on, putting it back into its place in the box. By the time he closed the box over it the exhaustion had descended; he could only imagine how tired Keith was. 

“Alright, bud. Let’s go get some rest.” 

* * *

Keith found sleep for a few hours before a sound woke him. It could have been the creak of a floorboard, or a doorknob turning, or the AC kicking on-- whatever it was, he was awake, and in the dark, and there was the heat of someone's body pressed against his back.

Instantly he froze, his muscles all stretching taut like rubber bands. The body shifted, and Keith held his breath, unsure what they were going to do to him now or if they even knew he was awake or how he was going to get out trapped between them and the wall, then a sleepy voice met his ears.

“Keith?”

_ Shiro.  _

All at once he remembered where he was and the relief melted him like candle wax. To his horror tears sprung into his eyes, a sob building in his throat that he instinctively smothered with his hand. 

Shiro’s arm shifted so that it was wrapped around him, pulling him even closer, and Keith rolled over to face into his chest. 

“It’s ok,” he said, voice low and soothing as he rubbed Keith’s back in delicate circles. “You’re ok. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Keith bit his lip to keep the tears from emerging. Shiro just kept murmuring to him, never stopping.

“You’re safe. You’re safe.”   


End file.
